


#Lacy

by 7iris



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, Los Angeles Kings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7iris/pseuds/7iris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike knows Jeff is doing it because he’s pissy that Mike hasn’t come back to LA early like Jeff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#Lacy

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this tweet](http://7iris.tumblr.com/post/96500635867/dazzlingheroes-underwear-or-fantasy-football) by Jeff. Reposted from tumblr.

Mike knows Jeff is doing it because he’s pissy that Mike hasn’t come back to LA early like Jeff.   
  
_u dont know what ur missing_ , Jeff texts.  
  
 _I know what im not missing_ , Mike says, and sends him a picture of the lake.  
  
 _lace or silk?_ Jeff asks, first thing in the morning.  
  
 _???,_ Mike says.  
  
 _should i wear the lace panties or the silk ones to practice this morning?_  
  
Mike’s face goes hot. He can picture it, Jeff’s dick hard under the delicate fabric, Jeff stripping down in the locker room where everyone can see.  
  
He turns his phone off and goes for a run.  
  
It’s in his twitter feed when he gets back, _#lacy it is._  
  
Mike almost drops his phone.   
  
_Did you mean to make that public?_ he asks.  
  
 _its about f. football dude_ , Jeff sends immediately, followed by a cheesy smiley face.  
  
Right.  
  
He needs to do another mile.  
  
He’s golfing with his dad when the next tweet shows up.  
  
 _#lacy was a good choice. I’m really feeling it._  
  
It’s followed by a link to some article about Lacy and his prospects for the season, but Mike can’t stop thinking about Jeff walking around, feeling that lace drag over his dick.   
  
"Whew, it’s a hot one," his dad says.  
  
"Yeah," Mike says vaguely. It’s not, really, but he feels too warm anyway.  
  
Next is the string of favorited tweets from Victoria’s Secret and the Lingerie Lounge. A woman’s ass in a lace thong, a woman bending over in thigh highs and a garter belt, a neatly arranged fan of silk panties in a rainbow of colors.  
  
Fuck, this is what he gets for checking his phone when he’s out with his buddies.   
  
Mike wants to text him, chirp him about window shopping, or lingerie football, something, but he’s not going to give Jeff the satisfaction of noticing. He spends some time in the weight room instead.  
  
(If he’s picturing Jeff in that garter belt it’s just a little extra motivation to concentrate on his form.)  
  
 _@MRichie_10 I always look for good tight end on my team #FFtips_  
  
Mike calls him over that one. “Really? Really?”  
  
"Do you have a tight end that could fill a hole on my team, Richie?" Jeff says, and Mike can hear the laughter in his voice.  
  
"Ugh, now you’re just trying too hard."  
  
"Is it working?"  
  
"No," Richie says.  
  
"Fine, I’ll just jerk off by myself," Jeff says.  
  
Mike’s breath hitches. “Can I listen?” he asks.  
  
"No," Jeff says. "But I’ll let you know how it goes."  
  
And then he hangs up.  
  
 _Loved the movie_ , Jeff tweets the next morning. _#HappyEnding_  
  
Mike’s already changed his flight.  
  
He lets himself into Jeff’s place with his spare key. Jeff’s standing by the stove, frowning at a pot of boiling water. He’s wearing board shorts and an old faded t-shirt, some band logo worn to almost to nothing. His hair’s standing up all over the place and he’s got about three days of stubble, and Mike’s pretty sure he’s not wearing his teeth, but the sight of him makes Mike’s chest feel warm and light.  
  
He drops his bags on the floor, and Jeff looks up.  
  
"Hey," Mike says.  
  
Jeff breaks into a delighted smile. Yep, no teeth. “Hey,” he says back.  
  
Mike cross the kitchen and tugs him into a kiss. Jeff laughs against his mouth, fumbles the stove off so they can make out like that, Mike pressing Jeff up against the kitchen island.  
  
"Upstairs?" Mike pants out.  
  
"Yeah," Jeff says.   
  
Jeff peels off his t-shirt as they go and Mike watches the flex of muscles in his back as he follows him to the bedroom. He strips off his own t-shirt, then pushes Jeff back onto the bed.  
  
He kisses him, slow and deep and filthy, then leans back to grab the waistband of Jeff’s shorts.  
  
Jeff lifts his hips, and Mike pulls them off.  
  
He freezes.  
  
Jeff’s wearing black lace panties.  
  
There’s a little pink bow in the center of the waistband. Jeff’s dick is hard, straining at the fabric, and he can see how red and flushed it is through the lace.   
  
He looks up at Jeff. Jeff’s cheeks are pink. “I wasn’t—”  
  
Mike kisses him, hard and possessive. “Fuck, Cartsy.”  
  
He slides back down and mouths Jeff’s cock through his panties. Jeff sucks in a ragged breath.  
  
Mike cups Jeff’s balls, rubs the rough fabric against Jeff’s skin. He gets the lace soaking wet with his mouth, until Jeff is whining in the back of his throat, pushing his hips up against the pressure of Mike’s lips.  
  
"God, you look so fucking hot," Mike says. "Better than I imagined."  
  
"Richie, please, fucking—"  
  
Mike drags his palm over Jeff’s lace-covered cock. “Gonna make you come in your pretty panties,” he says.  
  
Jeff lets out a sound, half-gasp, half-laughter, and Mike smirks back at him.  
  
"C’mon, babe," he says, presses his thumb up behind Jeff’s balls, and Jeff comes, his dick jerking against the thin fabric.  
  
"Fuck," Mike breathes. He shoves his jeans down, gets his own dick out.  
  
Jeff pulls him down into a kiss, lazy and slick. Mike rolls his hips down, his dick dragging against the damp lace and Jeff’s skin.  
  
"Worked," Jeff mumbles.   
  
"Yeah," Mike admits.   
  
Jeff keeps his arm hooked around Mike’s shoulder while Mike rubs off against him. When he comes, it’s a long, slow roll of heat spilling out through his gut. He buries his face against the side of Jeff’s throat and rides it out.  
  
"Welcome home," Jeff says.  
  
Mike huffs. He nuzzles the hinge of Jeff’s jaw, and then rolls off him, sprawls out on his back.  
  
"You ready to get back on the ice?" Jeff asks, something hopeful in his soft smile.  
  
Mike feels a quick twinge of _I need to do another mile_ , but it’s easier to ignore with Jeff’s shoulder pressed against his. He lets himself think about it.  
  
"Yeah," he says. "Can’t wait."


End file.
